Mokingjay: Let's Try That Again
by pointeshoejen
Summary: REad Mockingjay? Didn't particularly like it? Well we didn't either. This is how we think Mockingjay should have gone.***A COLLABORATIVE WORK BY VAMAY AND POINTESHOEJEN***


Chapter One

The Dark Days

The rebellion turned out like we planned. I appeared on television while everyone else in the underground city of District Thirteen did the real work. The only thing that registers is that half of my team is gone. Johanna Mason. Her name still sends shock waves through my spine as I try to clear my head. The lump on my forehead may have gone away, but not the memory. The fear. But when I learned that she was only protecting me, I found a new respect for the tribute from District 7. Then, there's the most heart breaking. My own partner, Peeta Mellark isn't here. He isn't here to hold me, or tell me I'm going to be okay. He isn't around to shed is warm glow of happiness, and kindness. He won't be. Ever.

The only hope I have in my new life is Gale. Though he wasn't my partner in the games, he was, and always will be, my partner in life. However, since the first time I stepped foot in the evergreen forest of the Seventy Fourth annual Hunger Games, I knew something between us shifted. We aren't kids anymore messing around in the woods, collecting strawberries for the mayor's family, or even feeding our families. Everything down here was done for us, and that made part of our friendship die.

I look up at the lights in the room and beg them to dim. The soft flickering light always made District 12 seem a little warmer in the deep freezes of winter. I close my eyes and let my mind drift. His smile, his laugh his… My eyes fly open, and I take in a whole new pair of eyes. Ones that did not puncture my dreams. Ones with dark grey irises that shine a little when I see my own reflection. The image makes me shudder, and I feel almost embarrassed that Gale is seeing me like this. Although, it's nice to see him again, even if he isn't my boy with the bread.

"Morning," he smiles. I don't answer, I just stare at him. His dark hair is cut short, and it's combed nicely. His grey clothes fit around his broad shoulders perfectly. Add a little bit of glitter and hair dye and he would look perfect enough to come from the Capitol. But of course I don't share this thought with him. "Feeling better?" He asks.

"Much," I lie with a smile. Unlike my friends in the games, Gale smiles happily and accepts the lie. I can't tell if he believes me or not. Surely not. He's been my hunting partner too long to forget how my emotions work. Or has that part of us died too?

"President Coin is allowing you into Command today," he says brightly. Since his heroic act of saving some of District Twelve, he's been greeted into the head of the rebellion warmly.

"I don't think I'm ready," I breathe. Even though from the beginning I wanted to help Peeta in any way I could, I don't think I could watch him on television, talk about his possible condition, or even attempt to answer the question of whether he was still breathing.

Gale nods, almost sadly, and leaves the room. I watch with wide eyes as golden liquid runs down the tube attached to my arm and travels under my skin. Without the sleep syrup, I would never close my eyes, hoping the nightmares would go away. But I can't seem to make myself care. Reality is as much a nightmare as my dreams. My eyes feel heavy, and I take one more moment to pray that I'll never wake up. But I'm sure District Thirteen would do anything to keep their mockingjay alive.

His screams are what hit me first. It's so full of pain, but when I try to call out to him, my voice barely comes out as a whisper. My hospital room fades into a dark, concrete hallway. I must be a ghost because all of the Peacekeepers walk right past, or even through me. I look from side to side at the jail cells. I see Enobaria in one, huddled in the corner, staring at her bloody hands with wide eyes. She doesn't seem to see me when I place my hands on the bars. I wait for her to move. But she doesn't. She just looks at her palms, worn down to bloody pieces of flesh.

Then, I watch Johanna kicking the wall of her cell. As if that would do anything at all. She has tears in her eyes and her short, brown hair is sticking up in all directions. She looks right at me with angry tears running down her dirty, bloodied face. Large bruises cover her eyes, arms, and legs. I have no idea what could be waiting on the under her clothes. Her legs are wobbling, and I can see the pain in them as she crumples to the ground, wailing. Peacekeepers with whips stroll past me and pick her off the ground by her arms before dragging her down the hall. My stomach curdles as new blood trails after her on the rough, stone floors.

The door slams at the end of the hall, and the hallway becomes eerily quiet. My legs move forward, even though every inch of me wants to turn around and run back to the hospital wing in District Thirteen. But the sleep syrup is trapping me here, in this room.

The last open cell contains a skinny but pretty girl with long, wavy brown hair. She looks so innocent scratching another tally on the wall with a rock. It takes a moment to understand what she's doing. 188 tallies, 188 days since I was rescued from the arena. It makes me shiver when she puts the rock down on a tray of untouched food. More like scraps in a ceramic bowl. There's some stale bread, some lima beans, and an indescribable pile of brown mush. There are only eight ounces of water in the bottle, which makes her frown. She crawls to the door and pokes her head out. I gasp at her large, sea green eyes. Annie. Finnick's Annie. When she doesn't see anybody, she curls up on the hard ground in a tight ball and closes her eyes. Her nose twitches once, but this girl looks almost sane.

I have to tear myself away from Annie when another scream escapes a door with only a small window on the top. It's made of steel, but I know exactly who's behind it. Annie sits up for a moment, and a man with gloved hands steps out of the room, slowly shaking his head. "It's going to be okay, Peeta," Annie says before the door shuts completely.

"Oh shut up, Cresta!" I turn around to see Johanna returning in shackles. She has new welts on her body. "They're never coming for us!"

The room behind the steel door stays quiet.

Another Peacekeeper steps out of the door with an iron rod and bangs it against Enobaria's cell which makes her jump. The man snickers, but I don't have time to watch him go. I catch the door in my hands, and wonder, for a moment, if I'm ready to look at Peeta. The others look so beat up, but Peeta's the one I'm close to.

I come all the way into the room, but I keep my eyes shut tight. The smell of blood and the tingle of electricity penetrate my senses as I open my eyes. He's hanging from shackles, seemingly lifeless. He's a million times worse than even Johanna. His blonde hair is damp and brown from dried blood, only the tips show his true color. You can barely see his fair skin because of the welts and blood. I recognize the long strips on his back, middle, and face. His lip is torn, and his prosthetic is nowhere in sight.

I gulp in as much air as I can hold and gag at what comes. It feels like the cave, and Peeta's worse than ever. His blood poisoning was bad, but here it's just blood. No room for infection.  
Peeta looks up at me, like he can actually tell I'm there. Even though I have to remind myself that I'm still living in a nightmare, he looks so real. His blue eyes are drained, as if the life has been sucked out of them. There's so much pain, suffering, and hurt. But when our eyes lock, they shine just the littlest bit.

"Here to finish me off, sweetheart?"

The room and Peeta fade, and I'm left more confused than ever. "Sweetheart?" a gruffer, but equally as hoarse voice says. My eyelids flutter open, and Haymitch's face comes into view. He doesn't give me a smile like most of my visitors do, which I kind of like. Haymitch has been in rehab the whole time we've been in District 13. I give him a scowl and watch him. "What did you dream last night?" he asks bluntly. "I mean, obviously not something peaceful."

"I was watching the others," I shiver. He nods, and pats his knees a couple times. This is more awkward than he expected, I guess. Ever since I tried to claw his eyes out, we haven't been on very friendly terms. I still hate him for leaving Peeta behind.

"Any idea where you were? Because I could definitely get into Command if I had that kind of information," he smirks for less than a second.

"No idea," I murmur, and unhook the tubes from my arm. The lack of drugs puts me into a whirl for a moment, but I gain my footing, and pad down the hallway.


End file.
